Awakenings
by Imogen74
Summary: Post series three. Spoilers. Sherlolly. Angst, comedy, the usual. M...because I'm boring.
1. Chapter 1

She was fixed to the spot. Her hands were still trembling, her breathing unsteady; indeed, she would have claimed that her entire person was moving if she could eliminate her feet from the narrative. She looked around her - the garage at St Bart's looked exactly as it always had. He told her she was in danger. He told her not to move. That's when it hit her. A bullet, left shoulder...& as she fell, she began to recall the events that had brought her here; strange events, events that defied logic, reason, senses, & her own mind...

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John Watson was in a hurry. He pushed passed the doctors, nurses, etc.

"Molly Hooper?" He breathed to a white-coat-wearing person. They gestured toward the lab.

In he went, & there she was, fiddling with her ponytail, staring out the window.

"Molly. Thank god."John smiled at her. "You need to come with me, straight away."

Molly looked at John quizzically. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Sherlock sent me..." he began.

"Nope. I'm not helping him detox. He's just going to have to go to the clinic..."

"It's not that. Get your coat. I'll explain."

She had seen the television interruption. She knew what that meant. Unfortunately, despite popular opinion, she hadn't been the one to perform the autopsy on Jim Moriarty. Had she been, she would've noted his...alive-ness.

They arrived at Baker Street in record time.

"Got her," said John, entering the flat.

Mycroft Holmes stood. "Ah, yes. Miss Hooper..."

"Molly, please."

"Of course, Molly. My brother sent for you," he gestured toward the pensive Sherlock Holmes at the laptop. "I'll be off then. Do keep me abreast of any developments."

"Goodbye Mycroft," Sherlock returned, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Do sit, Molly."

His brother left, & Molly was subjected to following his command...again. Blast.

But there was something different in his manner. She knew he was likely very concerned about Moriarty's resurrection, yet nothing could've prepared her for what followed.


	2. Chapter 2

He closed the laptop, sat back & looked at Molly. His body would never betray his mind, at least, he believed it wouldn't. When he saw that television interruption, the very first thing he thought of was her. He couldn't allow Moriarty to harm her, & harm her he would. He was too clever to make the same mistake twice. After getting into the car with Mycroft, he phoned John - couldn't waste time hanging about talking - get Molly, bring her to Baker Street. No questions, no resistance, just do it.

And there she was. Safe. He breathed in deeply.

"Molly..."

"Yes?"

He rose from the chair. "I'm afraid that once again your association with me has proven to be less than ideal," he began pacing about. "You are in very grave danger. I'm not certain that Moriarty knows fully of our..." he hesitated. "Alliance?" Yes. That sounded right. "But I cannot risk it. Therefore, we have two options: one. Mycroft can whisk you away to any place you like in the world. You can assume a new identity, begin afresh. Anywhere you like, Molly. Just name it."

Molly looked at him. "What's my other option?"

Sherlock lock shifted his weight & looked at John. He cleared his throat. He sat down. Got up again.

"Oh for Christ sake. Just out with it, man," John was irritated.

He put his hands in his pockets & cleared his throat, "Yes. Well, John has moved out. There's the bedroom upstairs...you'd need to be on surveillance, of course...during your work commute & such..." His voice trailed off.

Molly was staring in disbelief. "You mean...you want me to...move in? With you?"

"Temporarily. Yes."

"I really am replacing John, aren't I?"

Sherlock appeared affronted. "You most certainly are not. You are in danger. I am attempting to protect you from an insane person. Since your engagement is...off...I assumed that there'd be no objection," he finished.

Molly smiled softly. "Ok. I don't want to off & leave London...so, I suppose I have only one question."

Sherlock inhaled. He was all nerves, not able to anticipate what she might ask.

"I'll not be paying rent, will I?" And she laughed.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They had finally moved her in with much pomp. Well, Molly believed it ridiculous, but Sherlock insisted it was necessary. Nothing can be taken to chance. Her belongings, while minimal, would require a bit more in terms of transport than 10 pizza boxes.

"Just how long do you think I'll be here?"

He was pouring chemicals into a beaker, heated by a flame. "Dunno," Sherlock replied.

"You'll burn it if you're not careful," Molly pointed to the Bunsen burner.

"Damn," was his response, & he quickly turned the flame down. His manner was so touchy around her now. He couldn't account for it. Everything was different about her, about him. He chose to ignore these observations.

"It can't be for more than a month, right?" Molly was boiling a kettle.

He sighed. "Do you dislike it here?"

"Well, no."

"Then what is the issue, exactly?"

"I just..." Truth be known, she was desperate to be here, but under different circumstances. She longed to be near the man, as infuriating as he was. She had never stopped loving him, for all his prattishness. And he was different, but rather better. "I just, would like to know. That's all. I'd like a proper box to pack my things."

"There was never any actual pizza in them, you know."

"That's rather beside the point, isn't it?" And she smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

The woman was beyond tiresome. She prattled on incessantly about her cheating husband, his liquidation of their assets, & how if Mr Holmes would take her case, she could exact her revenge on the bastard.

"But Mr Holmes!" she protested as he ushered her out the door. "He took everything! My youth! My money! Our home!"

"Yes, yes. And you've been having your own fun with your family doctor. I suggest a lawyer, Mrs Taylor, not a detective."

"But...but..." and off she went.

He slammed the door shut. John Watson had been watching his friend quite closely. There was something amiss, had been for a while now, & he was beginning to see.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Any news on Moriarty?" He was playing it safe.

He started at this. "Mycroft believes he's dead."

"What? Really? Then how...?"

"Someone else. I never completed my work abroad. Someone in his network..."

John didn't like it. It was unsettling, not being certain of something like this.

"Well, that's news, isn't it? When were you planning on sharing that bit?"

But his strictures went unnoticed. Sherlock was already fiddling around with his violin.

John watched him closely. His friend was troubled, aside from anything Moriarty related. And he knew what it was, even if the detective didn't.

"How's Molly?"

A note played out seemingly unrelated to the music he had been playing. His hand had slipped.

"Fine, as far as I know."

"Good enough roommate, then?"

"As these things go, yes."

"Seen her naked?" John quipped.

"Sorry. What?" He glared at John.

"You. Have you seen Molly naked?"

Sherlock quickly put down his violin & strode over to him. "What are you playing at? What do you mean?"

"Oh, I dunno." He began putting on his coat. "Bit close in here, Sherlock."

He turned away from John. "Never saw you naked..."

"Different."

"How?"

"If you need to ask, mate, then you're worse then I expected." He took his leave.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Molly Hooper was getting ready to go home. Well, to Baker Street. Hardly home. In a matter of speaking. She mentally slapped herself. Stop it. Ridiculous mental arguments.

She decided to stop for some fish & chips. Surprise Sherlock. She giggled a bit, & yelled at herself again. Stop it, Molly. He's concerned for your welfare, not playing house. He's a good man. Finally.

Arriving at 221B always made her heart skip a beat. She liked to think that their friendship had evolved, for those feelings that she had always worked so hard at keeping in check were brimming fully. As she entered the flat, her person gave a start. Completely upended. Trashed, utterly.

"Oh my god. Sherlock?!"

She raced in, dropping the food. "Sherlock!"

Someone grabbed her from behind, & her scream could be heard down the block.


	4. Chapter 4

"What the bloody hell?!" Molly screeched.

Sherlock Holmes was holding her elbow, laughing. "For God's sake, Molly. What are you screaming about?"

"You! What are you doing? What's going on?" She scanned the mess of a flat. Drawers were out turned, furniture upended. It looked like a break-in.

"Redecorating," he replied & released her arm, a bit too reluctantly.

"Re-? What?"

The only thing that had actually been moved from its previous spot in a non-violent manner was the skull. "The skull wasn't working there anymore."

"The skull."

"That's right."

"The skull wasn't working," Molly repeated.

"Yes. What don't you understand?"

"What don't I...?" She shook her head & began to tidy up.

Mrs Hudson was then heard entering. "Hoo Hoo! Sherlock! What on earth?!"

Molly smiled as she set the chair right. "Hello Mrs Hudson. What do you think of the flat?"

"Sherlock! What are you doing? Are these your chips?" She stooped to pick up the food on the floor.

"No, please Mrs Hudson...you'll..." And quicker than a flash, she was on the floor & Sherlock was picking her up. Her hip.

"Molly...leave that please. I need to get her downstairs," and he & Molly brought her down & administered her medicine.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Molly had watched him as he tenderly lowered her into bed, made her a cuppa, gave her her medicine, & promised to check in on her later. He closed the door & faced Molly.

"Have you eaten?"

Molly immediately thought of the fish & chips & smiled. "I haven't."

He began ascending the stairs. "Care to get a bite? I'll set the flat right later..."

Her breath caught in her throat momentarily. "Alright, then."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Throughout dinner at Angelo's Sherlock was relaxed. Conversation, something he had always troubled himself over, flowed freely. Molly was quite easy to talk to. He marvelled at their similarities. Her similarities to John. Strange, really. What was even more curious was how different he felt here than in the flat. What was it about the flat & Molly that caused him disquiet? He couldn't account for it, so he filed it away for later inspection.

Molly, too, felt at ease. At the outset, she was all strange nerves & fluttery feelings; now, she felt relaxed, calm, happy. This is what a date would be like with Sherlock Holmes. How perfectly delightful.

Upon their return, Molly declared herself tired. She required a nice lie down - after she checked on Mrs Hudson. He agreed, & set to tidying up the place.

He didn't wish to think about what had set him off, but as he began his charge, his mind demanded it.

There, on the floor in the kitchen, sat a letter torn into a million bits. As he swept it up, one could ascertain the name "Tom" if one looked closely at the return address.


	5. Chapter 5

A fortnight had passed in pleasant fashion. Sherlock's mood had improved somewhat; Molly was generally at ease & happy. Indeed, if one did not know better, one might even claim them to be a couple.

When Mycroft appeared at 221B, Sherlock was downright happy to see his brother.

"Well, Sherlock. It appears domestic felicity agrees with you. And where is the charming lady?"

Sherlock ignored the jab (not an easy thing to do) & offered Mycroft tea.

"What brings you by? This is not your standard MO. Showing up. Inquiring after my flat mate. Smiling..."

Mycroft graciously accepted the tea. "I have it on good authority that the thing we've been waiting on shall occur within the next 48 hours. If you are still concerned about your pathologist, I suggest you retrieve her from Bart's immediately & bring her here, or perhaps to the Yard."

Sherlock stood. "It's not Moriarty, then?"

"He shot himself in the head, Sherlock. I'm no doctor, but I hardly think it's possible to survive such an injury...at least well enough to continue terrorist activities."

"Yes - but this man - he's different."

"He's still just a man, brother. What is it about him? I dare say he haunts you..." Mycroft had a look of concern about his countenance, but Sherlock was too absorbed to notice.

"I need to get Molly, then?"

"It's advisable, yes. If you care about her."

"Of course I care," he said, putting on his coat.

"Then I'll call later. See how it went," he began to leave. "You know, I may have been wrong...perhaps you're not a dragon slayer. Perhaps you are a knight in shining armour - off to rescue your lady fair..."

Sherlock scoffed at this...but refrained from denying it outright.

The plan was set in motion. He texted Molly, told her to be ready to leave, but to stay put in the lab. John & Mary both were heading to Bart's as well.

He hadn't counted on London traffic to snarl quite so ferociously at the 11 o'clock hour. It was highly suspect. He jumped from the cab & bolted toward the hospital, some 8 blocks away.

He appeared very nearly panicked by the time he reached the lab.

"Molly!"

"Yes?" She calmly inquired.

He collected himself. "Come with me, quickly." At that moment, his mobile rang out a text.

Why not resume our delightful conversation Sherl? Rooftop. 5 minutes. JM

"Garage," he said as he grabbed her hand & rushed from the lab.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mary is on her way with John," Sherlock was saying as they ran to the garage under Bart's. "She'll be here directly. Mycroft is sending a car. You'll be taken to Baker Street - go to Mrs Hudson. Wait there until you hear from me."

"What's happening? Is he here?" Molly was winded.

He didn't answer. They stopped by a pillar, & he situated her there. "Molly, I'm...sorry. It'll be over soon."

"Right," but she didn't want it to be over. She wanted to tell him such, but the words, they caught her throat. "Right," she repeated. He was about to turn, but she pulled him back.

"I need to go..." he began.

She grabbed the back of his neck & pulled him into a kiss. At first, he resisted the advance, but soon returned it eagerly. Damn. This would complicate matters.

Finally, after a long, desperate moment, she released him. "Sorry," she began, but then "Actually, I'm not. I'm not sorry," & she smiled crookedly.

He then cupped her face & kissed her earnestly. He turned away without even looking back, leaving her cemented to the spot. Her heart was in her throat. Her stomach flipping about nauseously. Her limbs tingled & her breathing laboured. Good god.

She heard a car's breaks squeal & readied her mind for seeing Mary, but just as her physical being began to relax, her shoulder burst with pain. Her right arm immediately grasped at the source, & she swayed, let our a gasp, & began to fall forward.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock's mind was racing, far faster than he was accustomed, which is something. He bolted up the stairs, flight after flight, but all he could think of was Mycroft. Would the car get there? Was he right about his desire to rescue his friends? Did he have friends, his brother? Was he enjoying domestic felicity with Molly, & what did that mean? Emotions peeled from his gut. Characteristically unable to hide his outbursts, his eyes were streaming tears. No matter. John would be here soon, his final thought as the door swung open on Bart's roof.

He was winded.

"Here I am. Just like old times..." He began to peek around the corners.

"Come out & play...old friend..."

He heard a text alert sound, but it wasn't his own. Again, & he sought out the source. There - the ledge where he fell - a mobile phone was sounding off.

So sorry dear. Had to dash. She's badly injured, you know...JM

At that moment, Sherlock's phone rang. John.

"Sherlock? It's Molly. She's been shot...hello?"

He dropped the phone & peered over the ledge.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

At first he found her irksome, always doe eyed around him. HIM. As though he'd ever have an interest in her. His interest was work & work alone.

But then John Watson entered his life, & he began to realise just how important companionship was. He noted his growing attachment to the man - he was warm, bright & brave. He fell in love with him. Not romantically, no. But he truly loved him, which was certainly unsettling. His relationship with the doctor seeped into his life in other ways. Mrs Hudson was suddenly more tolerable. The Woman attractive. Lestrade familiar & good. And Molly. What of her? Following John's Christmas party he became aware of just how deep her feelings ran for him. He was baffled, & he was set straight. She always had that effect on him.

But the moment it all came crashing down around him, the moment he saw himself for who & what he was, was when she saw him. She mattered, because she saw him. He knew then that he could go to her. That he would protect her from anything - even himself.

He hadn't counted on John being engaged. That rather mucked things up. He hadn't counted on missing them all as he had. Molly especially. She, too, engaged. If it had been a few years previous, he would've made her feel ridiculous for her choice. But not now. He couldn't allow himself, no matter how painful the result.

After John's wedding, he went to her. Janine was intolerable, & he asked her if he could stay with her some nights. Their broken engagement was certainly not his intention, but if he were honest, it was a desirable outcome. He was falling in love with her, he could see that now.

Over the past month, he had enjoyed her company, felt elated, jealous, nervous, furious & content. And now. Now she was shot. He had broken the only promise he had silently made to himself.

The roof was high above the street...it wouldn't take long...


	8. Chapter 8

How now, brother mine. You aren't serious.

"I don't know. I'm rather..."

Stupid?

(Mycroft's voice chimed out)

"No. Broken. Bested. Beaten."

How poetic.

"Not really..."

And what would your suicide accomplish?

"Sorry?"

Do try & keep up. What would be the result of you taking your own life?

"The pain would stop."

I told you that caring wasn't an advantage.

'You were right."

No. I was wrong.

(Sherlock turned toward his brother)

"Wrong?"

Utterly. Sherlock, you've changed. Taking your life now - it would only hurt them further. Is that what you want? Is that the answer you've reached? Especially considering the lengths you've taken to protect them all.

"I don't know..."

Of course you don't know. You never really do. But I do, & if you fall, no one will catch you, & there will be Mrs Hudson, & John & Mary...Greg. They'll all be there, missing you.

"But...Molly..."

Especially poor Molly. What have you done to her Sherlock?

"I've only ever made her feel awful. And yet, inexplicably, she loves me."

Indeed. One wonders if the human heart will ever be understood.

"What'll I do?"

You shall go downstairs & see that she's alright.

"And if she isn't?"

Well...then you'll stay with her until she's better.

"And if she dies?"

You'll mourn her, just as we all mourned you when you fell.

"But I wasn't dead."

No. But as good as. Go, Sherlock. You're wasting time.

:::::::::::::::::::::::;::::::::::::::::::::

He stepped away from the edge. It's true, if he killed himself, he would devastate his family. Mycroft was always right. How infuriating.

He arrived at the emergency area, & immediately spotted John.

"What happened?" He asked, hugging his friend.

"Dunno just yet...it's not terribly serious, though. Shoulder. She'll be fine."

Sherlock relaxed his muscles. She would be fine. She'd be fine.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"Mycroft still says it's not Moriarty. What do you think about all this business?"

They were walking down the hall.

Sherlock remained silent & stoic.


	9. Chapter 9

*note: Mycroft was in Sherlock's head in the previous chapter.

She was asleep, which was a touch of luck. He wasn't quite ready to speak to her, unsure as he was. He took off his coat & slung it over the chair next to Molly Hooper's bed. He went to the window & sighed.

"Sherlock?"

He turned to see her smiling at him.

"How are you feeling?"

"I was shot."

"I know."

"You were shot. You know how it feels," she continued to smirk weakly.

He chuckled a bit & sat down. "I'm sorry."

"You say that a lot."

His face contorted. "Yes. I suppose I do." He longed for a cigarette. "Molly...do you remember anything about what happened?"

"I remember kissing you."

He looked away.

"And then you kissed me," she said, waiting for acknowledgement.

"Yes...but I was referring to the shooting."

"Right," a bit disappointedly. "No. I was hit from behind. I never saw anything."

He nodded. "I've been thinking...maybe you should take my brother up on his offer. It's not too late, you know..."

"You're getting rid of me?"

"What? No! I'm just trying to ensure..."

Molly's face betrayed a pout. "My absence?"

"No. No. Molly...I don't want you hurt. Not on my account. Be sensible."

She turned her face. "Fine. I'll call Mycroft."

"I'm doing something wrong."

"Only if you're not being honest. Otherwise, no. You're fine," she looked at him again.

He wasn't being honest. Impossible situations. "I'll be back later, alright?"

Molly nodded. He left.

Her eyes dropped to her hands. The pain was dull, quite sore. He wouldn't come back. He'd send Mycroft in to find a situation for her, & that'd be that. Tears began to pool in her eyes.

"Molly?" John was in the doorway.

She looked up. "Hi, John."

"You...ah...ok?"

"Yeah. Yes..." her face dropped. "No. I'm not," & she began to cry.

"Molly! What's wrong? Hang on...lemme guess. Sherlock."

He was standing next to her.

"I'm so stupid, John. What am I thinking?"

"About what?"

She sighed heavily. "Nothing. Just thinking aloud."

"What's he done?" John said, sitting down next to her.

"He...nothing, really. I'm just being silly," Molly's voice shook. "He's sending me away."

"That thing he mentioned a few weeks back?"

She nodded.

"Well, it might be alright. Set yourself up someplace tropical, maybe?"

She began to cry in earnest.

John was desperate, "Molly! What is it?"

"I love him," she whispered.

"Oh. My. God."

"What?" She was peering through her soaked eyelashes.

"That's what's going on with him."

"I don't follow..."

"He's likely in love with you, too."

Everything went black at those words. She hated herself for fainting. Fainting. Honestly. At least it was John there...


	10. Chapter 10

His eyes opened rather slowly. He felt almost drugged, but being the addict he was, realised immediately he wasn't. No. John Watson was standing directly above him, arms folded, glaring down.

"Have you discovered who shot Molly?"

Sherlock sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "No."

"Huh."

"What is it?" There was a tone to his voice he didn't like.

"You're sleeping."

"Yes."

"High, are we?"

He got up from the sofa in a manner suggesting complete sobriety. "I'm not."

"Then why the HELL are you asleep?"

"It's what one generally does when one is fatigued."

"Or depressed. Or avoiding something. You never sleep when you have a case on."

Sherlock began to fiddle with the coffee pot. "I'm not sure what you're on about John, but if there's a point, I'd like you to make it."

"Molly."

At the mention of her name, he dropped the cup shattering it on the floor. John chuckled knowingly.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, cleaning up the mess.

"I think you do."

"She was shot, John. Shot."

"She sure was."

Sherlock poured out the coffee, having finished tidying up. "I'm glad you can be so cavalier. Was your reaction similar when I was in hospital dying?"

"You were dying. She is not."

"Brilliant. Excellent observation," he nodded & sipped the black coffee.

"You love her."

And coffee went all over the flat.

"Jesus Sherlock! You've lost all control of yourself!"

He had. Molly had done this to him. He went back into the kitchen to retrieve towels.

"Sorry. About the mess," he said, handing John a towel.

"S'okay. Are you going to tell her?"

He sighed heavily & looked at the ceiling. "I have no idea."

"Well. It's a good thing that Tom is out of the way, then."

He laughed & then stopped. "What did you say?"

"Tom. That bloke that looked like you? Molly's ex?"

"Oh my god." He grabbed his coat.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Mycroft."

They left the flat in a hurry, & hailed a cab.


	11. Chapter 11

He was sitting at the bar when his phone rang out a text alert. He glanced at it & smirked. Right on time.

He turned & saw his doppelgänger sitting at a table at the fat end of the place. He stood & went over to him.

"Well, "Tom." Looking well," Sherlock sat across from him.

"Ya. I am. How's Molly?"

"Don't mention her name again."

"So, it's done then, is it? You & her?" He lit a cigarette.

Sherlock nicked a smoke from the pack. "It is, as you say, done. Yes."

He inhaled it deeply. "Too bad Jim is actually dead. He would've been proud," Sherlock said with a smile.

"It's not too bad really. I'm alive."

"You are. For now," he said, ashing the cigarette in the tray. "A bit far to go, though, don't you think? Fiancée? Really?"

"I liked her. That's why I didn't kill her. Just wanted you to know I'm here. I'm watching. I am now Moriarty."

"Were."

"Excuse me?"

"No...I don't think I will," & he looked toward the back of the bar. Mycroft Holmes emerged from the shadows.

"Well well, brother. Caught yourself a rat?" Mycroft smiled.

"Yes. He may need to be put down. He's not a very good rat."

He shook his brother's hand while Mycroft's people came in to take the man who called himself Tom away.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John was irritated that Sherlock had sent him back to Baker Street without a proper explanation. Mary & the baby were wanting him home, & here he was, stuck waiting for Sherlock. He really was such a prat.

He was beginning to doze in the chair when he heard Sherlock come in.

"What happened?"

"It's over."

"You got the shooter?"

He nodded.

"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

"Yep," and he picked up his violin.

"What about Molly?"

"What do you mean?" He hadn't begun to play yet.

"Well...I mean...you're in love with her..."

"That's enough. Go home, John. Give Mary a kiss for me."

With that, he turned toward the window & began to play. John left his friend, albeit reluctantly.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The nurses were so nice. They chirped about how they'd miss her. They'd cried a bit, she really was the sweetest patient. Molly bit back her inclination to dismiss them. All she could think of was the conversation she had with Mycroft. He was much nicer than she recalled...

"So...Madrid? Is that far enough?"

"I think so, Molly. Would you rather it further?"

"No! I mean...no. Thanks. That's plenty far," the tears were welling.

Why would John tell her Sherlock was in love with her, & then they disappear? It made no sense at all. The first thing she was going to do was promise herself never to cry again. She was sick of it.

"Thanks again, Mr Holmes," she had said.

"Mycroft, please Molly," there was a pause. "You know, I believe we will see one another again."

"I can't think how..."

"No. I don't imagine you could," and he turned off the phone.

Molly entered her flat. All of her things were gone. That was curious - the clothes at Baker Street she had planned on merely leaving there. Perhaps she had misunderstood Mycroft & his instruction. She took out her mobile & discovered an unread text.

Your things are at the airport. MH

Well. That made things a touch easier.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The cab arrived at the Tarmac. He had told her very specifically where to go. She got out of the cab gingerly - her shoulder still tender. The black car was waiting by the small plane.

A man was standing beside it. But as she approached, she realised it wasn't Mycroft.


	12. Chapter 12

Molly got out of the car. She thought the man standing there resembled Sherlock, but it couldn't be...or perhaps, perhaps he was saying goodbye.

She approached. It was him. "Sherlock?"

He turned toward her. "Hello, Molly," and he smiled.

"Saying goodbye, then?"

He looked away a moment, & then back at her. "Yes...Molly. I believe I owe you an explanation. Well, more than that. I owe you...the truth."

She looked at her interlocutor quizzically. "The truth?"

He nodded. "Yes. The thing is," he shuffled his feet. "I don't think you should be going anywhere."

"No?"

"No."

"But your brother...I'm being sent away."

He took her hand. "Molly..."

Her eyes looked up at him, & he began to lose his nerve. It was at that moment that she took her other hand & cupped his face.

"Sherlock...just say it."

"I want you to stay."

"Yes? And?"

He finally returned her intense stare. "Because I'm in love with you."

And true to her record, Molly broke her promise to herself & tears rolled down her face.

He placed his hand on her cheek, & kissed her tenderly.


End file.
